Acquired Tastes
by Light-Ace
Summary: For Day 1 of Faberry Week: Blind Date. There were two morals for this story. One: don't judge by first impressions alone. Two: never underestimate Santana.


She was moving out as soon as she got home tonight. You'd think after almost eight years knowing Santana, she'd have wizened up to her tricks.

Apparently, she hadn't, which is how she'd ended up on a blind date without a cell phone and a staff of workers that Santana had likely bribed to make sure she didn't try and make a run for it. The only thing Santana hadn't taken was her wallet, but there had been a strongly worded note inside telling her that she'd better pay for the damn date.

In place of Santana's face, she'd taken up glaring at her glass of soda as she debated ways to get back at Santana that wouldn't end with Brittany angry at both of them. Stealing their cat was obviously out of the question then, as was flooding the apartment before she left.

There was a scraping sound, and Quinn blinked and looked up to see who she assumed was her date pulling out the chair across from her. The woman offered her a small smile, and it looked as forced as the one Quinn shot back felt.

"You must be my date," Quinn drawled as the woman sat down. "And from the look on your face, you don't want to be here any more than I do."

"Rachel Berry. And no, I don't."

Quinn smirked. "Quinn Fabray." Maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.

/

Okay, maybe it was going to be just as bad as she thought.

It turned out that Rachel was in very much the same position Quinn was. Her best friend and roommate Kurt had bonded with Santana over their morning coffee and come up with the whole thing. Quinn made a mental note to keep the two away from each other from now on.

They ordered, and while they waited, they talked. Or, rather, Rachel talked, and Quinn gave up at trying to keep up after approximately a minute. She tuned out somewhere around when Rachel started listing the benefits of veganism. Quinn was rather fond of chicken and seafood, thank you very much.

"You're not paying any attention, are you?" Rachel asked moodily some time later. Quinn tore her attention away from where she'd been staring longingly at some of their neighbors' meals.

"Not really," she said with a shrug. Why bother denying when she was probably never going to see this girl again?

Rachel glared at her across the table, but Quinn just blinked back, unaffected. She'd lived with Santana for almost four years now; this was nothing in comparison. "You're an ass," Rachel snapped.

"You're not the first person to ever tell me that," Quinn shot back as their food finally arrived. Wow, had it really been that long? She nodded her thanks to their waitress, who smiled at her in a way that was a bit more than simply friendly before sauntering away.

As she picked up her fork to begin eating, she saw Rachel looking at her with an unreadable expression. "What?" she asked blankly.

But Rachel just shook her head and reached for her own fork.

/

There was very little conversation while they ate, which Quinn found a little odd. Rachel hadn't _stopped_ talking before, and now she was just staring into her plate like it held the answer to life or something.

They finished dinner in silence, except for the annoyed noise Rachel made every time their waitress reappeared, which was quite often. Quinn had the sneaking suspicion she was lurking just out of sight, watching them. It was a bit unnerving.

When she reappeared with the check, Quinn held out her hand for it, and the waitress smiled at her and fluttered her eyes before handing it to her. Rachel huffed and sank her head into an upraised palm.

"She left her number, didn't she?" she asked moodily as Quinn glanced over the check.

"And a message telling me to ditch the hobbit," Quinn replied evenly. She glanced up. "Do you have a pen I can use? Santana stole my stuff."

Rachel reached into her purse and handed a pen to Quinn, who muttered her thanks before scribbling on the receipt. "What are you doing?" she asked when Quinn handed the pen back and pulled out her wallet to begin counting out bills.

Not looking up from her money, Quinn slid the receipt across the table so Rachel could read it. "You're a pig," Rachel said after a beat, though she was laughing.

Quinn smiled and took the receipt back. "Am I wrong?" she asked, but Rachel just blushed and waved her question away, still giggling slightly.

The waitress came back at that moment, but Quinn ignored her, choosing instead to watch Rachel's blush spread across her entire face. She looked like an overripe tomato.

/

"Okay, I admit you were right," Rachel said as they left the restaurant. "But I have to ask, do you make a habit of judging if a woman's breasts are real or not?"

"Of course not," Quinn replied lightly. "But hers were at eye level and she was practically smothering me with them."

Rachel gave her a scrutinizing look. "And mine?" she asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow at the sheepish smile her words elicited.

"Okay, so that one was completely willingly," she admitted, and Rachel smacked her on the arm with a giggle. Quinn threw her hands up. "Hey, I'm gay, not a nun. And my best friend's Santana, so you should really count yourself lucky that I didn't make crude comments throughout dinner."

Quinn grinned as Rachel rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'pig' under her breath.

/

The two of them spent the better part of fifteen minutes standing in front of the movie theater debating which movie to see. Quinn wanted to see an action or sci-fi movie, and Rachel wanted to see anything but one of those genres.

Eventually, they grabbed the nearest person off the street, told them to pick a number one though eight, and wound up with tickets to a horror movie.

"I hate horror movies," Quinn grumbled as they stood in line for snacks.

"So do I, but the number thing was your idea," Rachel replied distractedly, squinting up at the list of food. "If you didn't want to see this, you should have said so earlier, and we could have taken it off the list. What size popcorn do you think we should get?"

Quinn ignored the question and stepped up the counter to order. "Large popcorn, no butter; a pack of M large coke; and a bottle of water."

The bored looking teenager mumbled the price, and Quinn slid the bills across the counter and leaned back against it as he hurried to fill the order.

"I could have paid for that," Rachel mumbled, arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

Quinn shrugged. "I know, but I'm not a _complete_ ass. I pay for my dates."

"Dates that you don't want to be on the first place."

The teenager plopped the popcorn bucket on the counter, and Quinn took this as an opportunity to not have to reply to Rachel's remark because as much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't exactly hating this date anymore.

She handed Rachel the coke with a smile before turning and leading the way toward the hanging number three sign.

/

Between the two of them, the bucket of popcorn didn't last very long, and neither did the pack of M&Ms after Rachel grabbed them from Quinn's hands while she was in the middle of eating them. Quinn had been annoyed initially but had gotten over it after Rachel shoved a handful into her mouth.

The movie sucked, just like horror movies tended to do, but Rachel jumped more than a few times. Quinn, in turn, had laughed, which had caused Rachel to pout. The thought that it was quite adorable trickled through Quinn's mind, and she quickly banished it before it could take root.

"Horror movies are stupid," Rachel grumbled as they left the theater, shoulders brushing.

Quinn bit back on a smirk. "Why did you keep getting scared, then?"

She received a glare in response, and this time Quinn couldn't stop the grin. Rachel huffed and cross her arms, stepping a good foot away. "It's compulsory. They design the scenes in a way that causes everyone to jump at the sudden noise and/or movement. So I can't be held responsible for–"

When she heard Quinn laughing, she stopped in her tracks and turned to give her the fiercest look she could muster. Quinn's smile softened, and she wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulders and pulled her off down the sidewalk.

"Relax," she said lightly, despite the fact that Rachel was refusing to look at her. "It was cute. I was just teasing you."

Rachel twitched, and Quinn grimaced when she realized what she'd said. She opened her mouth to attempt to backpedal but snapped it shut again when Rachel relaxed and rested her head against Quinn's shoulder.

It was quiet, though it wasn't awkward like it had been at the restaurant. This silence was filled with things neither of them wanted to admit out loud, but it was comfortable.

"Central Park's on the way to my apartment," Rachel said quietly, and Quinn smiled and squeezed her shoulders.

/

The park was all but deserted at almost ten at night in the middle of winter, not that Quinn was complaining. She'd been in New York for four years, but the loudness still got to her sometimes.

Rachel slipped an arm around her waist and nuzzled into her size, and Quinn stifled the instinctive urge to kiss her on the forehead.

"You're cuddly," she remarked with a smile, rubbing circles on Rachel's shoulder. "Cold?"

"A little," Rachel mumbled into Quinn's jacket. "I just kinda wanted to–" She trailed off. "You smell really good."

Quinn laughed and shifted Rachel so she was sitting on her lap instead of the bench. "You are _adorable_," she muttered, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a hug so she could set her head on her shoulder. "And you smell pretty nice yourself."

The arms around her waist tightened, and Quinn felt Rachel smile against her neck. "Quinn?" she said quietly after a minute. Quinn hummed. "I want to kiss you."

Rachel spoke so quietly that it could have been easily missed had she not been listening for it. Quinn blinked a few times before pulling back and settling her hands on Rachel's hips; Rachel avoided looking at her.

She smiled at the sudden shyness and leaned forward. It was just a brushing of lips, but it caused a warm, fluttering feeling in the pit of Quinn's stomach.

They pulled back so their foreheads were touching, and Quinn suspected she was grinning just as foolishly as Rachel was.

"What I said at the movie theater," Rachel whispered, "when did you start not hating this date?"

"About the time you started growling at the waitress." Rachel flushed a lovely shade of pink, and Quinn added, "You're pretty hot when you're jealous."

Rachel's blush darkened, and Quinn smirked and leaned forward to kiss her again. Maybe she'd just disconnect Santana's television as revenge for stealing all of her stuff.


End file.
